Read Online Blood Oath: The Janna Chronicles 1 by Felicity Pulman - Free Book Online Page A

Fulk’s shop was closed. Dame Alice must be paying him well for the business he was losing by attending her. Close to his shop was an alehouse, its purpose made clear by the bush tied to a pole outside the door, the same sign that marked the premises of several other alehouses in Wiltune. She fingered her bulging purse, and nodded to herself. She had never been to an alehouse before, but was curious to see inside. If she was old enough to wed, she was surely old enough to brave the louts who were hanging around outside, and who seemed to have made the alehouse their headquarters. She would go in, sit down, and have a jug of cool ale to slake her thirst. While she was resting, she would listen to the market gossip. Perchance she might overhear the identity of the man on horseback, and the mission that had brought him to Babestoche Manor.
    Her first thought when she stepped over the threshold was to turn and run. The room was dark, having only a couple of window spaces to let in the light. Although there was no fire, stale smoke hung heavy in the air. It was mixed with the smell of sweat and unwashed clothes, and a lingering odor of animal waste brought in on boots and smeared over the already filthy straw strewed across the earthen floor. Janna placed her hand over her nose and coughed, debating whether she should leave. The bold glances of the patrons inside, and a lewd invitation for her to join some drinkers at their table, eroded her confidence even further. The only other women in the alehouse seemed to be whores looking for business. Yet pride made her defiant. She was not a coward; she would not turn and run. She had as much right to be there as any of them. She would find a seat and take some refreshment and the devil take them if they didn’t like it. So Janna forced herself to keep on walking past the crowded tables until, mercifully, she spied an empty stool at the back of the room.
    The alewife appeared from the brewhouse behind. She paused at the door to let her eyes grow accustomed to the dim light. She bustled over then and looked Janna up and down, mouth pursed in disapproval.
    “I bid you good day, mistress,” Janna said, continuing in a rush before she lost her nerve, “bring me a jug of your good ale, if you please.”
    The alewife didn’t budge. Quickly, Janna produced a token and slapped it down on the rough wooden tabletop.
    The woman waited until Janna produced another token. Then she nodded, slipped the tokens into a purse at her waist and disappeared through the crowd. Janna wondered if she’d ever see her again. She stretched out her legs and leaned back against the rough plastered wall of the alehouse, glad to rest as she waited to see what would happen next. Realizing that they would get no fun out of her, the other patrons of the alehouse stopped their stares and resumed talking among themselves and flirting with the harlots.
    Janna relaxed further when a wooden bowl was shoved in front of her. The alewife filled it from a leather bottle, the liquid sloshing over the brim. Janna muttered her thanks and bent over to slurp up a mouthful so that she could then lift the bowl without wasting any more ale. The alewife kept on circulating around the tables, refilling and clearing as she went. Janna wasn’t sure if the woman had taken against her because she despised her, thinking her another whore come to do business in the alehouse, but if so, Janna didn’t care. She was determined to enjoy her drink. She lifted the bowl and gulped down a couple of mouthfuls.
    She smacked her lips, savoring the cool liquid as it slipped down her dry throat. She swallowed again, and then again more slowly, holding the ale briefly in her mouth as she thought about its taste. Janna helped her mother brew their own ale from the barley and herbs growing in their garden and, like most villagers, they broke their fast each morning with ale and a hunk of bread. She sipped again. The difference was subtle, but it was